


Some Nights

by ThereAreWorseFics



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-22
Updated: 2015-04-24
Packaged: 2018-03-19 01:41:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3591573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThereAreWorseFics/pseuds/ThereAreWorseFics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Felix decides to stay in Ferelden, with his imprisoned father and Dorian, since he's got nobody to return to in Tevinter. He survives the fall of Haven but his health quickly deteriorates. Dorian takes care of him, feeds and changes him, spends every waking hour making sure he's comfortable and has everything he needs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> De-anoned from the kink meme:  
> "Felix decides to stay in Ferelden, with his imprisoned father and Dorian, since he's got nobody to return to in Tevinter. He survives the fall of Haven but his health quickly deteriorates. Dorian takes care of him, feeds and changes him, spends every waking hour making sure he's comfortable and has everything he needs.  
> Feels. Lots of them. Give me."  
> I will be continuing the fic here, since I have no idea if the OP saw the updates.

Felix was not eating again. Well, he was eating, just not as much as Dorian would have liked. A bowl of soup might have been a whole meal to Fereldans, but they would not know healthy even if Dorian tried shoving it down their throats. He would probably worsen the rumours with that even more. It was bad enough they were both ‘magisters’, but Felix’s illness spurred even the silliest of rumours, especially the ones of them being ‘together’. Dorian was too busy running from the hastily fixed room and to the kitchens too pay much of a mind to them, but they set him on edge more than usual. He certainly felt like everything irritated him these days. Even Felix’s calm filled him with the urge to set fire to something.  
  
His friend was propped in bed now, rubbing at the his eyes looking as he hasn't slept in weeks. That’s almost all he does nowadays. Just a month ago he was running along with the rest of them from Haven. His face looks the same, albeit tired, but his body shows the Blight’s work. This morning, when Dorian helped him bathe, he saw how easily the illness shed Felix’s muscles, and how light he was.  
  
“You can cry.” Felix’s voice broke the silence, and Dorian found he could not look at him in the eyes, lest he humiliates himself like a snivelling child.  
  
“Me? Cry?” He says instead. “Whatever I would ruin my eyeliner for?”  
  
“Oh, I don’t know. Many people look beautiful while crying.”  
  
Dorian found he could smile at least. “Admitting I am stunning? My, my, aren't you worried my ego might inflate so much I join the flying cows over Minrathous?”  
  
Felix just gave him a long suffering look filled with fondness before growing serious.  
  
“You can though.”  
  
Wasn't Felix the one who was supposed to cry at his own fate?

* * *

  
If Felix were healthy, he and Dorian would spend all their free time in the Skyhold’s library, or whatever they called that sorry excuse of a crow’s nest, complaining about the cold and the pitiful selection of reading material. Dorian would do most of it at least. Felix would merely find a comfortable enough chair and join him in the corner, discussing this and that.  
  
Sometimes they would go onto the battlements in search of mischief, when the spymaster’s birds made too much racket.  
  
“There’s the one.” Came a whisper. Dorian was long used to them, and he continued on searching for a reading material that was not as dry as the meat they served for lunch. He threw ‘Malefica Imperio’ over the railing, revelling in the thought of bald elf’s startled face when it landed somewhere below.  
  
The blasted birds still made noise.  
  
“What about the other?”  
  
“Heard he’s ill, a Blight even.”  
  
“Kind of fitting, sin’t it? A magister with a blight?”  
  
If Felix were healthy, he would get this put upon look about him and stare into the gossiping couple across the circular room until they noticed him. Then he would smile and leave them to sweat in dread.  
But Felix isn’t healthy.

* * *

“The dwarf I told you about, Varric, gave me a copy of ‘Tales Of The Champion’. I wonder how different it is from our version.”  
  
Felix tried to sit up, but failed. He fell early this morning while Dorian was sleeping, and had to be carried back to bed. Dorian pretended not to notice, and merely moved the chamber pot closer. It was fascinating in it’s own kind of way, how people got used to the smell after a while. In order to stop Felix from having to call for help when in need next time, Dorian had started sleeping in the bed with him, since Felix stubbornly refused him doing so in an armchair. It was meant for the library anyway or so he claimed.  
  
“Under one condition.” Felix’s smile was warm.  
  
“Oh? Someone’s getting bold.” Dorian’s own was crooked, and his skin felt forcefully stretched over his teeth. “And bald.”  
  
Felix’s hand went to his head where his hair was still as short as it was a month ago. As if it stopped growing. Felix himself seemed disgruntled at the slow but sure loss of it, but did not say a word about it. Dorian’s chest contracted for a moment, making it hard for him to breathe. The smile stayed on throughout the day, just like the loss of breath.  
  
“The condition is this...” Felix’s hand was still going through his hair. “Act every voice out.”  
  
“That, I can do.” Dorian gave a limited bow. “Though you will have to swear not to mention this to anyone. I have a reputation to uphold.”  
  
Felix scoffed.

* * *

  
Dorian thought he was alone.  
  
He was wrong.  
  
“Colours, brighter than before. Beautiful, but can’t remember. Is that how a world ends? Like a candle...”  
  
The boy in the hat, a spirit if rumours were to be believed, interrupted his routine just past midnight. Dorian was a night owl by nature, but ever since Felix fell he stayed up in case it happened again. Naturally, someone other than spymaster’s spies was going to find out about this. He didn't dignify the spirit boy with an answer, continuing on perfecting his technique with the staff on the training dummies.  
  
“Everything is sharp, yet later on, I cannot remember the details.”  
  
In the back of his mind, Dorian felt a chill at spirit’s words, felling naked and unnerved. Instead of acknowledging the words, he continued. Left hand, right hand, a twirl, momentum carrying him back until he finished the training. And then back to Felix. The sooner the better.  
  
“I don’t want to pay attention to it, but I want to remember every moment. So I can cherish it when he’s gone.”  
  
He brought his staff with such a force the feeling in his right hand outright stopped, and the training dummy flew across the yard.  
  
“When he leaves me alone. I don’t want to be alone.”  
  
Dorian picked up his shirt and strode beside the spirit, back inside.  
  
“He’s all I have.”


	2. Chapter 2

Fereldans didn't even bother putting salt on meat they roasted. Not even in the kitchens. It made Dorian want to lecture the cook for the better part of the day. Southerners may be accustomed to such atrocity invading their taste buds, but Felix deserved to at least enjoy what little he ate. This found Dorian rummaging though the supplies in the dead of the night again.  
  
It turned out that Lady Ambassador did, in fact, order spices not native to this cold land, the blasted cook just did not feel the need to use them. They were dry, sitting in the forgotten corner near empty bottles of wine. If Dorian had the time and motivation, he’d use this as an incentive to investigate if the bottles were, in fact, from the well guarded cellar, meant to be opened only for foreign dignitaries.  
  
Fortunately for the kitchen staff, Dorian will be merciful in his blackmailing, and only insinuate a change in the ingredient list that was approved by the Lady Ambassador, as well as gently nudge to hiring someone with more than basic culinary skills. If he’d really have to to bribe them with some money, well, he’d manage somehow.  
  
After avoiding spit and curses thrown his way.  
  
In the worst case, he’d try and cook himself, but whatever he made had to be better than what Felix was eating now.  
  
“ _Kaffas_ , do they ever clean this place?”  
  


* * *

  
  
“It’s a beautiful day.”  
  
Dorian turned his gaze towards Felix, who was straining his neck to catch a glimpse of the world beyond the open window. True, the sky was pale blue without a cloud in sight, but it didn't change the fact that both of them were suppressing their shivers whenever a gust of wind blew. Still, Dorian found he could not refuse Felix anything, as usual, and thus both continued on getting the frostbite. In his not so humble opinion anyway.  
  
“It could be significantly improved with a few drinks. I've been trying to turn the page several time snow, but that’s prove rather difficult considering I don’t feel them anymore.” Dorian gestured with the book before closing it. They only got halfway through it, surprisingly only having to give in disbelief a few times. There was no way the Bone Pit held a dragon nest.  
  
“Then come under the blankets, you sleep atop of them all the time. You don’t have to constantly watch over me, I am still well enough.” Felix said this a patient tone, as if Dorian needed to be reassured it was alright. It wasn't him that needed reassurance, but the fellow altus laying in bed most of the time.  
  
“Besides, I feel like napping, so swallow your pride, Pavus.”  
  
Dorian didn't feel like answering the teasing, instead doing as he was asked and getting beneath the warm covers. He still couldn't look at Felix, feeling tense all over, as if he couldn't get comfortable. After just a few minutes, when Felix’s breathing deepened the normally rough bedding sagged under him, the only witness to his constant tiredness. Only then did he raise his head and took in his friend’s face.  
  
Once upon a time, he might have had a crush on him. Once upon a time, he would not have to say anything to be understood. Once upon a time, the social norms would have allowed him to share hugs without being reprimanded by his father later. Once upon a time, he might have taken Felix’s hand and simply held it.  
  
But that was once upon a time.  
  
This was now.

* * *

Dorian forgot why he was heading for the library.  
  
It happened often the last two weeks. His feet would take off to whichever direction his half-formed ideas, if you could call them that, appointed them to. Concepts more likely. He couldn’t concentrate. At all. As soon as he would catch a scattered thought another would take its place and he would not be able to remember it later. This resulted in him wandering the Skyhold, pretending he did not turn on his heel for the hundredth time. His motivation too, was at all time low.  
  
He tried reading and researching, especially since the Inquisitor released Ger—Alexius as a researcher and he needed to occupy himself during the time father and son spent together. But he couldn’t. Whatever restless energy would prompt him to pick up a quill would vanish as soon as it was dipped in ink. The inability to do anything progressive was maddening in its physicality. Dorian could not even bring himself to doodle, his body frozen and his mind blank.  
  
Where was he going again?  
  
Ah, yes.  
  
Away from Alexius and more towards finding a solution to Felix’s illness.  
  
The first and logical choice would be to become a Grey Warden. Dorian could speculate that Alexius might have asked for the aid of the ones in Weisshaupt and was refused. The people of Tevinter and Anderfels got along as well as dogs and cats. That is, not at all. In fact, ‘Vints’ didn’t get along with anyone, thanks to the ‘starting the Blights’ and evil incarnate image everyone south had about them. He had fun throwing books that were trite propaganda at the bald elf. He stopped when Solas, as he was named, complained about such a childish behaviour to the Inquisitor, even though the Herald never said anything about it.  
  
Right. Wardens. Blight.  
  
He finds Blackwall drinking ale in the stables. It stinks, but at least one gets quickly used to it. By the way the Warden looks at him Dorian can almost be convinced he’s the one who hasn’t bathed in a week. He ignores any distraction, including cold welcome and tries finding a way to buy Felix more time. Even if it’s just thirty years as a Warden in the Deep Roads. It’s better than all this, it has to be.

* * *

Felix’s hand doesn’t shake as he moves the pieces on the chessboard and Dorian feels proud. What a silly thing to notice, let alone be proud of. He’s distracted and doesn’t mind his ricky moves. Felix on the other hand, plays to win, as he always did. They used to compete in everything, finding their strengths and weaknesses along the way. In spite of cool weather the day has been bathed in sunshine and their banter is light. Dorian is almost enjoying himself. He’d asked around for a chessboard and surprisingly gotten the beautiful spot to play in too. He’d have to thank the Commander later.  
  
“I’ve noticed an awful lot of plaidweave. Is this a Fereldan thing?”  
  
Felix reclined in his chair and rubbed his eyes. He was either an expert at ignoring all the glances and whispers thrown in his direction when he leaned on Dorian on their way here, or he was truly not bothered by them. Probably the latter, practicality was always his forte.  
  
“I honestly have no idea.” Dorian did not reach for the chess pieces. “Actually I do, but there’s enough conspiracy theories about two magisters in Skyhold. No need to add ‘The Herald of Andraste has a wicked sense of humour’ to the list.”  
  
Felix’s lips curled and his eyes softened, making him look charming. “Yes, I’d wager it’s quite long already.” Dorian should tease him about not being as handsome. To Dorian that is. “So, tell me silliest one you’ve heard.”  
  
Silliest? Dorian had no time for silly for awhile now. Blackwall denied him, stating that even if the Wardens would tolerate a Vint of all things, Felix would have to undergo a Joining. A ritual of sorts to which’s secrets Blackwall was not privy to, being a mere recruiter and all. Damned Wardens, claiming they don’t care about people’s pasts but still preferring a thug over a Tevinter.  
  
No, he was being bitter now. He did not know the circumstances or had all the information. Alexius would have had tried that option at least.  
  
“Dorian.”  
  
He blinked and found Felix looking at him.  
  
“The rumours?”  
  
And this was the corestone of their interaction. Respect. They knew each other. They knew likes and dislikes. They knew when to push and when to not. This was Felix putting Dorian’s selfish needs above his own, yet again. What kind of friend was he, to just watch as the better one slipped away?  
  
“So, the cook in the kitchen was, apparently...”

* * *

All in all, Dorian was proud of the slightly burned soup he made. Felix was starting to sleep for the shorter, but more frequent periods of time, and this found Dorian in the kitchens just before the dawn broke. Despite feeling drowsy and miserable and always so damn cold, he managed to keep enough wits about him to not burn water. The cook might give him a stink eye for the rest of the week for all unwashed dishes and cutlery. The joke would be on them, as he was getting better and better at covering the tracks of his presence. He wasn’t ashamed, just...  
  
It was very personal, and he did not want others to know about Felix.  
  
He did not want anyone to judge as they usually did.  
  
“I put in some meat this time, and, I managed to take out the bone without spilling everything on the floor.”  
  
Felix was writing letters to his contacts in Tevinter, trying to put support behind Maevaris Tilani and her stand against the Venatori influence. It wasn’t working as well as it could have been, but people were more prone to questioning whether the ancient darkspawn magister was a good thing for the Imperium.  
“Really.”  
  
Dorian frowned at the absent tone.  
  
“Now, now, I do this all for you, almost burn down the kitchens, and you decide a letter should catch more of your attention that the meal I’ve made? Did you start eating paper all of a sudden?”  
  
“Well, they do taste the same.”  
  
“Oh, you wound me.” Dorian faked hurt as he put the tray on Felix’s legs, effectively stopping him from doing any more of the dry reading. “I did bring salt. It should make things more bearable. And I added some spice. Not sure which was it exactly, but it should be bearable.”  
  
In times like these Dorian regretted not knowing ‘servant’s work’. It was never an issue until now, not even when he was on his own, far, far away from home and any tavern. But lately it grated on him. He was eating when Felix did, and quite frankly, his meals were bland. Better than what cooked came up with, but that was like saying encountering a wyvern was better than stumbling on a dragon. Without magic. Naked.  
  
It just wasn’t something you liked thinking of.

“Oh.” Felix’s eyebrows rose as he swallowed the first spoonful. Dorian was ready for a grimace to follow. “The spice helps. It’s good.”  
  
“You’re joking.”  
  
“No, it’s fine. Really.” Felix’s face was earnest as he brought the spoon to Dorian’s lips. “Go on, try it.”  
  
If they were back in Minrathous, he would bat Felix’s hand away and make a quip about how he only accepted to be fed peeled grapes. But now, he just silently opened his mouth. The spoon clumsily hit scraped at his lower teeth, but he closed his lips quick enough and swallowed. Felix barely moved the spoon away, watching his with curious, if unnerving gaze.  
  
“It’s... “ Dorian was aware of both of them not breaking the eye contact through the whole act. “It’s not as bad as the regular food served around here. “ He smiled arrogantly, leaning a bit away. “But then again, I would praise myself regardless.”  
  
Their gazes were still locked.  
  
Dorian didn’t understand why. This wasn’t like his flings, where his whole body would fill with tension when the eyes of other men would capture his. This was quite the opposite in fact. There was a sense of calm, and he wondered if Felix was searching for something. Was he posing a question and expecting Dorian to answer? If that is so, what was the question?  
  
“Of course you would.” Felix broke the gaze and took another mouthful. “But it’s certainly better than what father makes me eat. Some pasty stuff which should give my body ‘all it needs’. It makes Skyhold food seem like a banquet.”  
  
Dorian wondered if he answered the question right. The other man certainly did not give any indication of what was this... Thing that just happened all about. No relief, no disappointment. Just nothing. As if it didn’t happen. He wrinkled his nose, imagining the food described tasting like foul medicine he was forced to take as a child.  
  
“Luckily, you have me and my culinary skills.”  
  
“And your presence.” Felix finished his meal and Dorian put the tray the floor. “I love father, as you know, but if he didn’t have to work for the Inquisition almost all the time, he would fuss over me the whole day.”  
  
“And I imagine you had enough of that.”  
  
“For a lifetime, in fact.”  
  
Dorian smiled.  
  
“Luckily, you have me.”  
  
“Yes, I do.”


	3. Chapter 3

Dorian was awoken at the crack of dawn by Felix's shifting on the bed. When he tried to prop himself up on his elbows, he was stopped by a hand on his arm. Still fighting sleep, he gave his friend a quick-over and satisfied that there was to emergency, let the sleep overtake him again.  
  
He was warm and cozy for a change, and that should have clued him in that something was off.  
  
The next time he woke, he felt terrible. He had a headache and everything hurt. There was a weakness deep inside him, sapping all energy and leaving him feeling vulnerable. The sheets were suddenly too rough and his hand felt bruised where it was trapped beneath his torso. He knew the symptoms, and he hated them.  
  
"Felix..." Dorian croaked, not having the energy to even frown at the pitiful tone that followed. "Kaffas, why now..."  
  
Felix, who was awake, immediately put 'Hard In Hightown' on the night table and focused on him. Dorian was not feverish yet, but the urge to throw up was an indication of its inevitable arrival.  
  
"Dorian?" Felix asked, too loud for his headache. To Dorian's credit, he elbowed his friend minimally when his scrambled all over him to get to the chamber pot beside the bed.  
  
As he emptied whatever little he had in his stomach, Felix's hand rubbed his back and held the back of his head. When Dorian was sure his heaving stopped, he could do nothing but go limp over Felix's lap and had to be dragged by him to lie on the side again. The bitterness in Dorian's mouth might as well have been from the feeling of shame. He was the one who was supposed to take care of Felix, not the other way round, and now he couldn't even keep his eyes open.  
  
"It's alright, sleep if you have to." Felix's fingers found heir way into Dorian's hair and started soothing him. "Father will visit in a bit, I will tell him to bring you some tea." He whispered.  
  
Dorian could not fight the pull of sleep. Oblivion was a better choice than the pain in his skull.

The third time he awoke was to a hand shaking him awake. His eyelids felt glued together and he opened them to two faces, one etched with light worry and the other openly frowning. He could barely think. It took him a few seconds to realise he was under the sheets for a change, and his once mentor was checking his temperature with the hand that shook him awake.  
  
"Come on, lift yourself up." Gereon Alexius said authoritatively. "Well, come on, you can't drink laying down."  
  
It took a few seconds for Dorian to connect the words with their meaning, and with Felix's aid, he propped himself up against the wall and in the same position his friend was. How ironic. And embarrassing. The first time Dorian encounters Alexius after Recliffe and he's in a sorry state having to be taken care of like a little boy. Any thoughts of resistance scattered before they were formed, and he managed to bring the cup that was handed to him to his lips.  
  
He almost threw up again.  
  
"None of that." Alexius' frown seemed to be permanently carved into his face." Drink all of it, unless you want to bother Felix with your illness. He's got enough tro--"  
  
"Father." Felix chided. Dorian could see his displeased look from the side. "Dorian's not responsible for time magic failing."  
  
Alexius seemed ready to argue, but Felix shook his head stubbornly. "He told me what the future looked like. I wouldn't want it." Then he turned his attention to Dorian whose shivers started from the cold. "Though he should have listened and slept /under/ the covers from the beginning." His fingers found their way into Dorian's hair again.  
  
If he was in a better shape, he would have had a quip ready. he would also be able to puzzle out just why Gereon's frown deepened at Felix comforting him. "He'sick." Alexius says as he fumbles with whatever's on the tray on the bedside. "And your health is in question without him worsening it."  
  
The last thing Dorian hears is a reprimanding 'father' from the man laying in the bed beside him before blackness claims him once again.

* * *

He was cold. Very, very, _very_ cold.

Not even when they escaped Haven and camping in Frostbacks with minimal supplies was he this cold. Felix and him were hungry and clutching each other for warmth, completely covered with whatever blanket was at hand with cold ground making laying down uncomfortable. They'd summon a bit of fire from time to time, careful not to burn the bedroll they shared. It was an utterly miserable experience, and yet still better than what he was experiencing now. Dorian could swear his bone creaked when he curled up closer to the body next to his, which was, unfortunately, not warm enough for his tastes. His head felt like it was constantly being hit with a hammer. _Oh... It's just my teeth chattering._

"I know you're cold, it's hard to miss after all..." Felix's voice was like needles to his brain. "But you need to eat."

If anyone ever asked, Dorian did not whine when the covers where removed, or bury his head into the pillow like a child in order to avoid waking up completely. Nor did he utter 'go away' quietly and tried holding onto the blankets as much as he could. Half of him was still shivering on that bedroll in the Frostbacks. But then a cool hand touched his forehead and he realised it was burning.

"Come on." Felix coaxed him again, spreading the coolness from his face to his neck and chest. Surprisingly it helped, and Dorian's chattering teeth subsided a great deal. "Before father chunks the soup at your head."

That startled Dorian into opening his eyes, and sure enough, Alexius' face could sour even the worst milk left out in the sun for days.

Felix's on the other hand, always lit up the world. Or so it seemed.

"Do that..." Dorian's threat was lacking in strength for obvious reasons. "And your boots will be filled with water for a _week._ " This did, however, give him enough of an incentive to get himself into a sitting position, albeit the one racked with shivers, and accept the tray with the soup onto his lap. Fortunately, he did not embarrass himself any further by say, spilling it as he put the spoon in his mouth. He still felt like he would throw up, but at least his taste buds were dead enough that he did not have complaints about Ferelden cuisine. He barely paid mind as Felix and his father argued about sleeping arrangements, that is until Dorian became the subject.

"He is hindering your recovery!" Was one of Alexius sentences that set Dorian off.

"Really?" He felt more than irritated when sick, and had a habit of lashing out even against his better judgement. "Because you're the one who's been stifling Felix with your incessant hovering. Did you become a hen when I wasn't looking?"

If Alexius' gaze could cut, Dorian would be without most of his limbs. "Don't you speak to me like that, _boy_. I am the one changing _my_ son's wounds while you do nothing all day."

"Will you stop it both of you?" Felix's voice was weary, as if he expected this. "You're not helping."

While Alexius looked ready to argue, after a few deep breaths he stood up and made for the door but not before throwing spiteful words over his shoulder. "You destroyed Felix's chance at living. I hope you're proud of yourself, Pavus, when those like you live even when my son is dying." And just like that, Dorian's irritation gave in to despair. Because he was right, in a way. Felix would have lived if Dorian hadn't foiled Alexius' plans. He might have been a husk, but he would be _there_. Suddenly he could not eat or throw up or do anything at all. _Gereon Alexius, his once mentor, hated him_. And Dorian hated himself too. He hated that he could not help Felix. He hated that doing what's right meant giving up on Felix and his father, probably the closest thing to a family he ever knew. He hated that he had to choose at all. He hated he knew how it ended, either way. He hated how Felix's deteriorating state twisted a man he once looked up to. He hated that he discovered how much, or how little he meant to such a man. He just hated the situation they were all in.

"Dorian, come on." Felix, ever the good friend, took the tray from him and started comforting him. "He didn't mean it. He was angry, like you, and he just needed to take it out on someone."

"I'm sorry." Was all Dorian could say as Felix hugged him. Nothing was alright and he could do nothing about it."I'm sorry."

He was just that.

Sorry.

 


	4. Chapter 4

Dorian was trying to be quiet as he cleaned himself as best as he could with a piece of cloth and a basin of water. Fortunately, he did not sleep with all of his clothes on, and most of it was bearable and did not smell. Felix was asleep on the bed which was still damp from Dorian finally sweating out the fever, and he did not wish to wake his friend. He needed sleep, or so he told himself.  The coiling guilt in his gut spoke the truth however, and he could only sneak out of the room like a thief in the night. Or like a Tevinter mage at the brink of dawn before his partner kicked him out of bed for daring to stay the night and risk both their reputations.

Which he did.

Once.

He would not recommend it, just as he would not recommend searching out the Inquisitor and asking them to take Dorian with them, never mind to where. And yet, here he was, petting the mount designated to him mere hours after recovering, ready to abandon Felix just because he could not stand being in that tiny room with the constant smell of illness in the air. Of medicine and tightly bandaged wounds that never heal and smiles which resemble masks and... Himself, mostly. Alexius was right. Ever since coming to Skyhold, Dorian has been practically useless, to both Felix and the Inquisition. But as he mounted his horse, Dorian was determined to make sure that there was a record of at least one Tevinter fighting the Evil Magister and quite frankly, stop all the spit being thrown at his feet.

He's not a flower to be watered after all.

* * *

The Hinterlands are everything Dorian despises: wild, filled with murderous animals and humans(and an occasional giant), damp at night, cold even by day. He should have been feeling miserable and irritated and all things that come with camping in the wilderness. And yet. And yet he finds himself in a better mood, enough so that he tries to engage the apostate elven mage, a _somniari_ of all things, in a discussion, to various degrees of success. Alright, 'success' might be too optimistic of a word, but they barely knew each other and it seemed that at worst Dorian was going to be ignored by Solas completely. He did have interesting views on things, one worth listening to and learning from. Though there seems to be a bit of a mystery about him. After all, an elf neither Dalish or from the cities of the South seemed an oddity even here. Nevertheless, at least Dorian managed to realise his social skills were slipping, considering he managed to put his foot in his mouth almost every other sentence around the elf. At least his fashion sense was still intact, thank goodness.

After three bears and several bandits and elfroots, the Inquisitor has decided to set up a camp. But not before they have trekked a good part of the countryside for a dragon to kill. Dorian hoped they never run into one, being turned into a crisp was not high on his priority list. More like the very bottom. Along with: things father wants him to do and have a civil conversation with Alexius. He'd rather ignore both, after all, he was getting better at ignoring the water in his left boot as well as the fine smell of nature. If Varric was here, he would have been able to complain alongside him about the dreaded 'outdoors'. Instead, he turned to look for the Petaghast woman whose glare could make the Breach itself cower in fear.

Dorian found her behind a tent, shoulders hunched and a look of concentration towards whatever was written in a book.

"Well this is a surprise." He said as the woman scrabbled to her feet clumsily with a look of utter panic about her. And a yelp. "I didn't take you for a reader, Seeker."

"Pavus! I--" She looked about her superstitiously before tucking the book behind her back. Too late.

"Is that..." Dorian grinned as her eyes widened at his pause. "'Hard In Hightown"? By our very own dwarf named Varric?"

"No."

"Oh, it is!" He could not help the glee that entered his voice. "And does he know you're a fan of his, I wonder?"

Cassandra's face twisted. "Do not mock me, magister. This is none of your business."

Dorian could not help but laugh openly. "One: I am an altus, not a magister. Two: I wasn't mocking you... Alright, I was, but not in a malicious way. A friend of mine seems to share your... _Tastes_ in smutty literature."

That seemed to assuage her fears, as her posture relaxed and she did not try and hide the book anymore. The Seeker also looked interested in whatever it was he wanted to say. "Oh..." Her gaze fell on the book's cheesy cover. "I suppose that with so many people in Skyhold, at least _someone_ had to share the same interest."

"Apparently." Then he got an idea. "You even might have someone else to talk with about it. I'm sure Felix is just about ready to set me on fire if I tease him one more time about it."

"Felix... The sick one?" Her eyes widened and she quickly sputtered in attempt to correct herself. "I mean..."

"Yes." Dorian said somewhat curtly. It wasn't her fault though, the gossip mill was relentless and stretched far and wide. "The sick one. Also the one you might share interests with."

"I... Will remember that. Thank you."

"Not at all."

"Oh, and... Please, do not tell Varric."

"No promises."

* * *

There were many drawbacks to the Inquisitor leading the party. One of them was not using the map and ending up climbing a steep rocky hill instead of using roads like a sane person. But as usual, there was a silver lining in the form of a wild rose bush growing at a near vertical angle from it. And not just any roses. They were yellow, and had yet to bloom. Skyhold was a fortress in the mountains, cut off from the world save for one path, which was useful in case of an attack. It also made any kind an attempt at a trade route a straight up nightmare. Most food would become inedible by the time it reached its destination, and the entire castle had to rely on local villages for meat or vegetable. This also meant that any kind of flowers would wilt and die on the road from Orlais to the Frostbacks.

Now, Dorian himself was not a person inclined to flowers. They were beautiful, they had their meanings and purposes, but beside a frivolous decoration, he saw no real value in them. Felix, on the other hand, adored them as much as Dorian adored books. It was a badly kept secret though, just like his love for romance novels and colour yellow. So it was no wonder that when on their way back to Skyhold Dorian noticed a wild bush of roses he immediately forgot about any semblance of sanity and attempted to reach it. This, however, did not go unnoticed by the party which has, at this point, climbed the steep hill and started watching his efforts with a mixture of amusement, disapproval and in Inquisitor's case, worry. Really, he should feel flattered all the attention was on him. Actually, what he should feel is fear of falling and breaking his neck, but curiously enough, there is none. Just a thought of getting that flower. If only father could see him now.

"Dorian, what are you doing?" The Inquisitor asks, even though Dorian has already reached the bush and is now trying to get one thorny rose without losing his balance.

"I think my dear Herald that it's quite obvious." The thrice damned thing wouldn't part from the rest of the bush. "I am trying to get a nice rose that won't shrivel up until we reach Skyhold."

There was a long pause as the part members watched him struggle and Dorian lost his patience. Yes, he knew he could use magic. No, he did not want to risk anything happening to the flower. He pulled the rose as hard as he could, his left arm straining on keeping the rest of the body as close to the rocky hill as possible. Thorns dug into his palm as he tried cutting it with his nails. He'd have used teeth or the blade end of his staff, but he could only move one limb. He tugged again.

And lost his footing.

Before he could even yelp in surprise, a strong hand gripped him by the elbow and pulled him with ease upwards. It belonged to Cassandra, unsurprisingly. The woman rammed doors and bears with a terrifying ease and she looked like she wanted to do the same to him. But he didn't care all that much as he examined the rose, still intact and with petals closed, staining his arm guard with drops of blood. When he looked up from it, he was met with curious looks and a silence, as if everyone wanted to ask the same question but did not want to be the one to do so.

Cassanda, being a straightforward person that she was, asked.

"Why did you risk falling for a flower?"

"I told you, it's the only close enough that won't wilt on the way." Dorian knew he sounded defensive, and the voice in his head sneered at such foolishness over a _flower_ , but right now he didn't care. It was a completely rational decision.

"I heard it but... Why?"

"Felix likes flowers." His answer was quieter, but no less defiant.

"Ah, your... friend. I see."

Dorian finally ran out of any patience he had. "Now that you've stopped asking obvious questions, maybe we can get a move on? We still have a day or two, and limited daylight as usual."

The Inquisitor looked as they wanted to ask Dorian something, but probably got discouraged by his scowl.

He didn't let go of the flower the entire way, making sure nothing damaged it.

* * *

The end result was typical.

Now that he stood in front of Felix's room, having put the rose in a long glass tube, courtesy of that dwarf... Dagna, was it? He felt foolish. Dorian knew that Felix accepted all his gifts, even the ones meant as a joke, but would he _really_ like a single yellow rose? It hasn't even bloomed, which was Dorian's intention when he picked it, but... This was foolish. All this fretting. What was done was done and he needed to get in, tell a joke and then act as if the damned flower was there all along. He knocked on the door. Received no answer. Then he just barged in, opened his mouth...

And found Felix asleep.

For just a brief moment, Dorian though he was dead and stood on the doorway like frozen until he saw the almost unnoticeable rise and fall of his chest. Sighing deeply, he closed the door carefully and proceeded to make room on the night table for the flower all the while keeping an eye on his friend. Felix was pale, and still had shadows under his eyes. His hairline had thinned noticeably since he last saw him two weeks ago, and when Dorian brought up a hand(the bleeding stopped) to grasp the other man's, he found it cold. It was wrong. Felix always had warm hands, like a fire spell, almost enough to singe you. Now it felt as if heat would never bring warmth to them.

Dorian took off most of his clothes, and just like that, without cleaning himself from the road, he slid beneath the covers beside his only friend. The rose on the night table stood proud, chasing away the bleakness of the grey stone with it's yellow hue and for a moment, he realised why Felix liked flowers so. Just one little thing brought life to the small room. One little ray of joy.

Dorian put his hands around Felix, pressing his ear to his ribcage and listened to the too fast, too uneven heartbeat.

 

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

Dorian should have known better than to expect any different.

The day started off well enough or at least, as well enough as it could. While Felix was sleeping Dorian slipped out and went to find a basin of water and clean himself. One would think that an ancient forgotten castle in the middle of cold mountains would have baths, but no. It didn't. Therefore, he was forced to rely on barbaric means to not announce his presence ten metres away with the smell of sweat and dirt. And other unmentionable disgusting things he picked up during his escapades through Hinterlands. After he got rid of most of it with a lukewarm water and soap, he decided he should try and decode some of the texts the Inquisitor found. However, while he was in the library, or a sorry excuse of it anyway, he could not help but overhear certain whispers.

"Do you think...?"

"Why not? The Inquisitor's back, and they've been a voice of reason. Surely they would act."

Dorian put a tome slowly back on the shelf and started looking through the history section closer to the whispering voices.

"But he's got a Blight, what if he spreads it? You never know with his kind."

"Well, we'll just have to wait and see when others approach the Herald today, won't we?"

There was no doubt that they were talking about Felix. Dorian took the selected books under his arm and hurried down the stairs and out of the library, completely missing the sharp eyes of a certain spymaster. He wondered how could the state of Felix's illness spread so far and in such detail. Maybe not detail, but it was more than enough that some people apparently knew and monitored the effects of the Blight's work. He wondered how could that happen, after all, he was as careful as he could be all these months, and whenever Felix went out, while he was clearly pale and thin, he was dressed in clothes that hid anything more. And Felix's good humour always outshone any symptoms most of the time. So how in the world did...

Gereon.

There was no other explanation.

When Dorian neared Felix's room, his suspicions were confirmed: several servants were positioned around the door, each carrying a different item, though Dorian payed no mind to them. He entered the room and saw both Alexius and First Enchanter Fiona taking off Felix's bandages. Time seemed to stop and Dorian was aware he stopped breathing, as well as moving. His eyes were glued on the long cut above Felix's hip,blood and puss almost dripping from the wound, surrounded by grey flesh and black veins. It looked bad. Truly bad. Dorian stayed silent as Fiona put some salve on the wound, as Felix's face scrunched up in obvious discomfort, as Alexius tightly bandaged his son's hips.

Only when it was over did Dorian open his mouth to speak.

"If I had known there would be so many people invited here, I would have brought a bottle of wine."

To Dorian's smug satisfaction both Alexius and Fiona startled, whipping their heads at him like those halla the entire party spooked all the time. He could feel a nasty smile forming on his face, and despite Felix's face being both elated at seeing him and warning him to keep his mouth shut and any semblance of peace, he continued.

"Or better yet, open an entire cellar for all the good folk at Skyhold, considering they might as well be here in this room with us."

"Dorian..." Judging by the tone and Alexius' expression, he had not wormed up to Dorian any more during his absence.

"Oh, pardon me, talking, _making a scene_ to fuel all the gossip mill around here." Dorian flashed his teeth and extended his arm theatrically, as if giving a rousing speech and waiting for applause. He turned his attention to Fiona, who was, to her credit, keeping a neutral expression. "Now be a dear and leave us, and take those lovely people with you." He motioned to the servants at the door.

"They are needed-" She started.

"Not anymore. Now run along." He waved his hand dismissively.

Dorian could see Alexius was ready to give him a stern lesson, or in his recent experience, biting words. Fiona, surprisingly, looked ready to argue too, even opened her mouth to do so.

"I'd like to bathe alone." Felix's voice stopped whatever explosion of tempers was about to happen. "Actually, I'd like to bathe _myself_ , preferably without an audience." Sometimes, Dorian forgot Felix was an obedient son out of respect and love for his parents, and that he could manipulate situations and people. He could not help but feel proud at what came next. "Father, _please_ , I can do this _one_ thing."

The effect was immediate, and Dorian could see the moment Alexius capitulated to his son's request. The First Enchanter could see it as well, and see courteously bowed and exited the room, telling the servants to leave the basin of water(bigger than the one Dorian used), soap and oils as well as clean clothes and towels in the room. Dorian took the bowl and sat on the bed beside Felix, almost daring Alexius to say anything. He used his magic to start warming the water as Gereon decided to forgo hostilities in favour of bringing towels and soap to his son.

While Felix scrubbed himself, Dorian occupied his mind with troubling whispers and potential chaos they would cause. The Inquisitor was not a harsh souls, something that would come back to haunt them one day, but nevertheless, it was clear to him that they would not allow any harm to come to Felix. They did, after all, spare Alexius and allowed Felix to stay after Redcliffe time travel. He was not sure about the rest of the Skyhold. his days were centred around his friend and as such, he did not spend much time around other people and he did not know them and they did not know him. At least not enough to judge a reaction if some unrest was to occur.

The yellow rose he put on the bedside table was moved on the windowsill beside the bed.

 _One small victory at the time Pavus_.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short semi-fluffy part. Who else is exited for World of Thedas Volume 2?

“I brought you something.”

Felix’s lap suddenly became full of paper and charcoal. Before he could even open his mouth to ask a pointless question of ‘what is this’, Dorian shushed him and sat on the chair beside the bed.

“Yes, I thought a break in the monotony of your daily life was preferable, not counting the castle full of Fereldans willing to burn you at the stake.”

Where once there were only rumours about a ‘magister’ having the Blight, now there was more than enough proof. Apparently, between Alexius’ fretting and chatty servants (and mages), the not so secret was out, and each day only Inquisitor’s will stopped the frightened mass. Dorian has been to Crestwood and has seen what that fear might do. He has not left Felix’s side ever since.

“I always wanted to be Andraste.” Felix’s wry humour was ever present, much to Dorian’s delight.

“Of course not, I’d have to be Maferath then.”

As soon as the sentence left his mouth, Dorian knew he killed the mood with his wagging tounge. It didn’t help it was true in a way. He fought with Alexius and left. He refused Alexius’ offer to join the Venatori. He went to Redcliffe and allied himself with the Inquisition. He was the betrayer.

“I can hear you being dramatic.” Felix chided him as he rearranged papers in his lap. “Stop it. Think of flowers.”

Dorian scoffed and glared at the yellow rose as if it personally offended him, never mind he was the one who almost broke his neck to pick it. It just sat there, unblooming and refusing to wither, clearly at odd at Felix’s own state. Even if the day wasn’t cloudy, Felix couldn’t walk anymore. Well, not entirely true, as he could move around the room, but anything more seemed to become impossible.

He was poked in the cheek with a charcoal.

“Stop it.” Felix almost whined. “And let me draw you.”

Dorian was about to say something smart, but all that got out was a resigned ‘alright’.

And regretted it a moment later when Felix’s hands went to his hair and mussed it up. Now it was his friend’s turn to shush him and his indignant spluttering. It was not the first time he was a model, but it certainly was a first time he let anyone ruin half an hour of meticulous grooming every morning.

“Sometimes you’re such a baby.”

Dorian could only glare and Felix set to work.

The good thing about modelling was the whole process of being turned into a piece of art. The bad thing, besides having to sit very still and not make faces was the silence that followed. Felix always had to concentrate and couldn’t really be a good conversation partner. Plus the sitting still part didn’t come easy to someone who gesticulated a lot when he talked.

Still, the silence did not sit well with Dorian and he talked.

He talked about the lack of fashion the troops of the Inquisition sported. He talked about his adventures with the Inquisitor in the Hinterlands and Crestwood. He didn’t talk about the spirit boy and his questions or his own answers. He did not say how every minute he was away from Felix the fear would grip him that when he returned he would not be there. He even talked about their own misadventures back home.

He did not notice when Felix stopped drawing.

He did not notice a smile was on his lips and gentleness in his eyes.

Not until he ran out of words.

Not until only silence was left.


	7. Chapter 7

Dorian was afraid.

His hand refused to move even an inch closer to Felix, merely hovering above his cheek. His mind was commanding it to move, but it was frozen. Made useless by the overwhelming fear that gripped his chest. Dorian saw plenty of dead people, being the necromancer. He saw grisly scenes, caused half of them and merely felt distaste at the smell and the general mess a rotting human body made.

Yet he could not even touch his friend for fear of him being...

He could not even think it. A world without Felix was... It just wasn’t something he could imagine, or wanted to. He was just so... Afraid. Didn’t even realise how much until now.

Felix’s eyes fluttered open, disoriented and soft from sleep. Dorian took a shaky breath in as fear left him in a rush, leaving behind empty space of relief which made him dizzy. His hand fell to his side, aching from the spasm caused by the internal war.

“Did you know you always sniff disdainfully when you wake up?”

Felix merely closed his eyes again and rubbed his brow, either in irritation or, as Dorian observed, was his habit. Whatever the true reason, Dorian had enough experience that Felix would be completely unwilling to fully wake up for at least an hour and a half.

“Anyway, it’s time for a bath, or as I like to call it, ‘wet rags party’.”

Felix yawned in response.

The man never had good hygiene habits.

Still feeling lightheaded from the rush of fear, Dorian called for a servant hovering near the doorway to fetch them a basin of water and soap. He was glad Alexius was busy with work this morning, as his unsubtle care, however well intentioned, put Felix’s illness in the spotlight. Last time he went to take a bath himself, there was a talk of burning the body of the sick as a way to insure the Blight didn’t spread.

Over Dorian’s dead, handsome body.

“I dreamed.”

Dorian turned sharply towards Felix, surprising himself in his speed. He immediately knew what this was all going to be about. Through the years, both of them developed a habit of telling each other dreams in which other made an appearance. Or in Dorian’s case, most of the dreams. Some things were simply too embarrassing or private.

“This should be interesting.”

A tired little smile crossed Felix’s face.

The servant returned with the items requested, and Dorian helped Felix seat himself on the floor and take off his shirt. Logically, they should clean the lower part of the body first, but Skyhold was still cold and if all involved were honest, it was easier this was easier this way. He then started warming the basin with magic as Felix started telling the dream.

“For some reason we were on the Imperial highway... Not the one like here made of mud at roots. I mean a proper highway, with bricks and flowers on the side. Despite the flowers, we were in the woods.”

Dorian listened as he soaped Felix’s body.

“The woods were bright too. They were bathed in golden light. The day was beautiful without a cloud in the sky. Anyway, I am side-tracking.”

Felix made a half-hearted attempt at washing himself before surrendering the cloth to Dorian, who began gently scrubbing at his friend’s chest.

“You were there. I don’t know what we were doing, but we were walking down the road, chitchatting. You didn’t have your moustache though.”

“What a travesty!” Dorian attempted to look offended.

“Indeed. Anyway, we realised something scary was behind us. You looked behind. I didn’t. I couldn’t. I was too afraid.”

Dorian moved to clean Felix’s back, frowning, remembering his own fear all too well. He wondered if this was somehow connected. If it was an omen. But it was ridiculous for the sole fact that anything for those suffering the Blight was related to bad things happening.

“You told me to run. I did, but you didn’t. I didn’t look back. I could feel that scary thing behind me as I ran down the highway. The woods seemed to end in the distance in a beautiful glade, but I was sluggish and couldn’t reach it.”

Dorian’s hand stopped at Felix’s neck, and his eyes at his friend’s lost gaze.

“The dream ended there...”

Felix looked at Dorian, who cupped the other man’s neck, covering the black veins contrasting the sickly whiteness of the skin.

“For a few moments, I thought I was healthy again...”

Dorian fell to his knees.


End file.
